


i'll take your pain

by suspendrs



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Waxing, Brazilian Wax, I'm so sorry, JFC, M/M, Oh god, Soulmates, This Is Absolute Crack, has a double meaning, that's literally it - Freeform, which
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2019-01-08 18:51:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12260070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suspendrs/pseuds/suspendrs
Summary: It’s kind of romantic when Harry thinks about it, feeling all the pain of the person he’s supposed to love for the rest of his life. Sure, it’s rather inconvenient when he’s in class and his soulmate gets kicked in the balls, or when he’s sleeping and his soulmate knocks his head or his knee off something. It’d be nice if the function helped them to find each other, but Harry supposes he can live with knowing that they’re destined to run into each other someday.Or, soulmates have the ability to feel each other's pain, and Harry finds his after getting his arse waxed. (Or, the soulmate au crack fic I can't believe I actually wrote.)





	i'll take your pain

**Author's Note:**

> i....have nothing to say. this is completely unedited i didn't even proofread it this whole thing is a mistake tbh
> 
> based on [this](http://suspendrs.tumblr.com/post/166011744383/au-where-soulmates-can-feel-each-each-others-pain) totally innocent post i made on tumblr earlier today

Harry’s mum met his step dad at a bar on Thursday night, out having too much fun with her work friends. She rolled her ankle on the dance floor and fell right out of her too-tall heels, and hardly a moment later a man limped over and offered to buy her a drink, or maybe drive her to the hospital, since he could feel her pain radiating through his entire leg. She’d accepted the ride to the hospital and they scheduled the drink for another time, and they were married within the year.

It’s kind of romantic when Harry thinks about it, feeling all the pain of the person he’s supposed to love for the rest of his life. Sure, it’s rather inconvenient when he’s in class and his soulmate gets kicked in the balls, or when he’s sleeping and his soulmate knocks his head or his knee off something. It’d be nice if the function helped them to find each other, but Harry supposes he can live with knowing that they’re destined to run into each other someday.

It takes ages sometimes, like in Harry’s mum’s case. She didn’t find her soulmate until she’d already been married and divorced once, with two children and a cat. Her soulmate had to have known she’d given birth twice, though, and she knew that he had broken his arm twice and his toe once throughout his life. Harry hopes it doesn’t take him that long to find his own soulmate, but he’s been keeping careful score of all of their injuries in case it comes up in conversation with a particularly cute boy.

Harry’s soulmate has had three broken ankles, twice on the right and once on the left, two broken wrists, the left both times, and a broken nose. Harry thinks he must be an athlete, or something, because every now and again he wakes up with sore legs and arms, and sometimes he gets the breath knocked out of him suddenly like he’s been hit with a football.

Harry himself has never broken a bone, but he’s given his soulmate quite a few bumps and bruises tripping over his own feet and falling up stairs. He burns himself quite a bit at the bakery, as well, so he really hopes his soulmate doesn’t hate him for that.

Sometimes he forgets to consider his soulmate when he does things, like when he rips out a stray piece of hair that keeps falling in his face or when he pinches his wrist when he’s anxious. Today is not one of those days, though; he can’t stop thinking about his soulmate as he sits in the waiting area of the salon, wishing he could somehow warn them about what’s about to happen.

He made the appointment on a whim; his mum is one to paint her own nails at home, so when she got a gift card for the salon from a friend, she immediately pawned it off on Gemma. Gemma had left it unattended on the coffee table for weeks, though, so Harry really had no option but to take it when he found out the salon offered waxing. 

So here he is, waiting anxiously for his first full Brazilian, pinching his wrist quite hard and bouncing his leg against the cushioned chair he’s waiting in. He’s always wanted to know what it would feel like to be completely bare down there, and it’s not exactly something he feels comfortable exploring at home with some of the wax strips Gemma uses on her face. He just wants to try it, just to see if it’s worth the hype, just to know if it’ll feel better or different when he’s lonely at night and he reaches down just to try…

He snaps himself off that train of thought quickly, lest the poor girl who’s about to sit between his legs for a half hour get more of an eyeful than she probably ever wanted. He starts thinking about his soulmate, hopes he’s not doing anything terribly important or dangerous, like giving a presentation or climbing a ladder.

He got here early just in case they might be able to see him before his appointment so he could just get it over with, but no such luck. There’s a girl in the back now getting her eyebrows threaded, and as soon as she’s finished it’ll be Harry’s turn. There’s still about five minutes to go, but the time flutters from his mind when the most beautiful boy he’s ever seen comes through the door with two young girls 

They’re twins, obviously, as they’re identical, and the boy with them is probably their older brother, Harry assumes, as he looks almost exactly like them as well. Harry can’t help but stare as the boy brings the girls to the front desk and orders them a manicure each, helps them get settled in their chairs, and then heads over to the waiting area.

Harry straightens up as the boy sits down next to him, butterflies tickling at his stomach. He feels like a schoolgirl, fawning over the cute boy, until the boy turns to talk to him and Harry’s butterflies go apeshit.

“Mum was supposed to take them,” the boy says, gesturing to the girls. “But she had a headache, and guess who’s the only other person in the family who can drive and isn’t currently at work?”

“You, I’d assume,” Harry says, turning to give the boy his prettiest smile. “I think it’s sweet.”

“Yeah, I mean, they’re pretty cute about it. I like making them happy, you know?” he says, shrugging one shoulder.

“Very sweet,” Harry says, hoping to hell he’s not blushing as hard as he thinks he is. “I’m Harry.”

“Louis,” the boy says, examining Harry’s face for a second. “Harry’s a good name for you. I like your curls.”

Harry can’t help but giggle at that, cursing himself for transforming into an actual schoolgirl. “Thank you. I like your freckles,” he says, blushing hard once he realizes what he just fucking said out loud.

“Thanks,” Louis grins, a small blush gracing his own cheeks. “What are you here for, then? I’m thinking about getting a pedicure,” he hums, kicking his feet up and wriggling his toes in his beat up Adidas.

“Sounds lovely,” Harry says, stomach twisting at the idea of telling this gorgeous person what he’s about to do. “I’m actually, uh-”

“Harry?” calls a soft voice, and Harry glances up to find a petite, gentle looking woman waving him over, her eyes friendly and warm. She’s just the type Harry wants waxing his arsehole: sweet and gentle and kind.

Harry chuckles awkwardly and gestures to her, shrugging at Louis. Louis doesn’t seem to understand but he smiles anyway, nodding his farewell as Harry gets up and rushes over to where the woman is holding open the door to the backroom for him. He desperately hopes Louis’s sisters are done with their manicure before he’s finished, or that maybe there’s a back door he can leave through, because he really doesn’t want to have to waddle back through the salon in front of Louis.

The woman moves a step stool over to the chair, which looks for all the world like a dentist’s chair, but with stirrups and a clean white towel on the seat. Harry blushes madly as he stands awkwardly by the chair, unsure of how to proceed.

“You can undress,” the woman tells him, sensing his apprehension. “It’s alright, I do this about thirty times a day. I’ll turn around so you can have some privacy. When you’re ready, just sit with your tailbone right at the edge of the seat and put your feet up in the stirrups,” she says.

She turns around and busies herself at the small worktop in the room, picking up a bowl full of wax and stirring it around to make sure it’s hot enough, taking a stack of waxing paper out of a cardboard box next to the sink and placing everything on a small silver tray. Harry quickly shucks his jeans and pants and, after a moment of deliberation, his shoes, climbing into the chair just how she asked and resting his socked feet in the stirrups. The woman gives him longer than he needs before she turns around, placing the tray on the table beside the chair and pulling up her stool.

“So uh, I’m Harry,” Harry says, peering down at the woman through his parted legs. His face is flaming hot, but the woman seems unphased, ever professional.

“Milla,” the woman smiles back, pulling on some rubber gloves and spreading Harry’s cheeks with one hand. Harry slams his head back on the seat and swallows at the ceiling, staring into the light until his vision starts to blur. “Is this your first time?”

“Yes,” Harry says, glancing down at her for hardly a second. “Can you tell?”

“You seem nervous, is all,” Milla says. “It’ll sting a bit, but it’ll be better if you relax. No need to be shy, either,” she says, and waits a full minute before tapping the inside of his thigh. “Honey, unclench.”

“Sorry,” Harry huffs out through a laugh, forcing himself to relax. He stares hard into the light and focuses on staying relaxed while Milla spreads him again and picks up the wooden spatula in the wax and spreads it carefully over his skin, following it quickly with one of the paper strips.

She counts him down from three and then rips it off in a single upward movement, Harry gritting his teeth through the pain. He hears someone scream and realizes belatedly that it wasn’t him, looking down to find Milla frowning over her shoulder at the door.

“What is going on out there?” she mutters to herself, disposing of the wax strip and picking up the spatula again to go in for another. There’s so much of Harry’s hair stuck to the paper, he has no idea how the woman isn’t gagging.

She counts him down again before she pulls off the next one, but he’s ready for this one, and though it still hurts like hell, he hardly flinches. Someone shrieks again outside the door and Milla just shakes her head, paying it no mind as she continues working.

There’s no more screaming after that, but there’s a bit of commotion for the rest of Harry’s appointment. It sounds like someone is in serious pain out there, but it doesn’t register in Harry’s brain for even a moment that it’s perfectly in time with every strip of hair that’s ripped from his skin.

Eventually Milla hums a quiet note and drops the last strip into the bin, picking up a warm towel from the heater under the chair and holding it against Harry’s smarting skin. She cleans up all the leftover wax and then deems him finished, busying herself at the worktop while Harry eases himself out of the chair and pulls his pants and jeans back on.

He fancies going home for a nice, long bath, and then maybe sitting on a bag of peas for the rest of the evening. The salon website guaranteed smoothness for up to six weeks, and he really hopes that’s true, because he doesn’t want to go through that again for a bit.

He finds a rather tense scene when he leaves the backroom, Milla leading him to the front desk like everyone isn’t staring at him. Louis is nowhere in sight, thank goodness, but everyone in the salon is blushing and Louis’s little sisters are giggling in their chairs.

Harry’s just pulling the gift card out of his wallet to pay when the restroom door whips open behind him, and someone grabs his arm and turns him around. He comes face to face with a flushed, sweaty Louis, looking panicked and livid, and Harry’s heart drops.

“What did you just have done,” Louis pants, glancing down at the way Harry is standing, in a shallow squat, frozen mid-waddle. “You’re waddling,” Louis breathes, eyes slowly finding Harry’s again. “Holy shit.”

“Uh,” Harry glances around, blushing hard when he finds absolutely everyone staring at him, including Louis’s owl-eyed sisters. “Uh-”

“You’re my soulmate,” Louis says, sounding about as shocked as Harry feels.

“Oh my God,” Harry whines, hiding his face, while Louis laughs gleefully. “What will we tell our children when they ask how we met?”

Louis snorts, shaking his head. Harry can’t really meet his eyes, turning back to Milla to pay for the session. She looks amused, too amused, and Harry wonders if this has happened to her before.

When he turns back around, Louis is still standing there, watching him with stars in his eyes. “Do you want to go get a coffee?” he asks, grinning when Harry grins. “Er- after my sisters are done?”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Harry hums, following Louis back to the waiting area.

Louis pays for the girls’ manicures when they finally finish up, and then they waddle together out of the salon and to Louis’s car. The girls tease them the whole way back to their house, where Louis drops them off, but Harry doesn’t even mind. He’s just happy to have found his soulmate.

**Author's Note:**

> GOD
> 
> if you liked the fic (idk why you would but uh), you can reblog it [here](http://suspendrs-fics.tumblr.com/post/166041725347/suspendrs-ill-take-your-pain-by-suspendrs)
> 
> [faq](http://suspendrs-fics.tumblr.com/faq)


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